Hold On
by CourtVincent
Summary: The day Aziraphale fell from grace was a day Crowley would remember for the rest of their lives. (TW: Contemplating Suicide)


(Inspired by the song "Hold on" by Chord Overstreet.)

Soft white wings curled around the couple, keeping them both comfortable and snug as they lounged on the bed in the back room of Aziraphale's book shop. It was a quaint room, nothing much to look at besides a bed and a dresser holding several bits of the angel's clothing he'd accumulated over the years.

"Are you going to sleep?" Aziraphale asked, tilting his head so he could see Crowley's face from where he was resting on his chest.

"Not sure." The demon answered, even as a yawn escaped his lips. Aziraphale couldn't help but smile, knowing Crowley would be out like a light soon enough.

"Get some rest, dear." He told him, snuggling back into his chest as he tightened his wings around them both.

It had been several weeks since Crowley and Aziraphale had crossed the territory from friends to lovers. Of course it took the world almost ending for them to finally decide to stop tiptoeing around the feelings that were between the two of them, but they had never been happier than they were right at this moment in time. It was silly, they decided, that they had both taken 6000 years to finally reach this point.

Aziraphale kept a content smile on his lips as he listened to Crowley's breathing change. He could hear Crowley's heart beating away in his chest, and the sound almost made Aziraphale want to drift off himself. He resisted, however. He hadn't had to sleep a day in his life; no need to start now.

His contentment was suddenly interrupted by the sound of something like thunder crashing in his ears. He jumped, pulling his wings into himself as he jolted up in the bed. He made sure Crowley was still undisturbed as he slid off the bed, miracling on his shirt and trousers as he walked over to the window. He expected to see a storm outside, an explanation for the crash, but it was a bright sunny day out.

He tapped his chin as he thought, catching a glimpse of his reflection in the window. What he saw made his blood run cold. Dark grey feathers were scattered through the pearly white ones that he had carried with him every day of his life.

Quickly making his way out of the bedroom, he didn't even care if he woke Crowley as he rushed into the bathroom. He stared at himself in the mirror, his heart hammering in his chest as he studied his reflection. _What's wrong with my eyes?_ He thought, leaning in to see dark grey replacing the soft blue that once decorated his irises.

"Crowley!" He called out, his hand shaking as he lifted it to run it anxiously down his face. It was only a moment before the demon entered the bathroom.

"What is it angel?" He asked, his voice still heavy from sleep as he miracled himself some clothes as well.

"I'm falling." Were the only words Aziraphale could force from his mouth. They immediately had Crowley's attention, and he was instantly awake and at Aziraphale's side.

"What are you talking about?" Crowley asked, but he caught site of the angel's wings as the question left his lips. His heart broke as he watched the grey feathers begin to devour the beautiful white.

"My eyes." Aziraphale murmured, turning to Crowley. The demon looked into the angel's eyes, already missing the blue orbs he adored looking into everyday. Tears spilled over Aziraphale's cheeks and Crowley quickly moved to wrap the angel in his arms.

"Shhh." He soothed, holding Aziraphale tightly against himself as he tried to understand what was happening. He couldn't stop the guilt from crashing down on him as he took into account that this was obviously his fault. Aziraphale had changed nothing about himself other than the fact that he now allowed himself to love a demon.

Crowley had damned him.

"I'm so sorry, angel." Crowley whispered, placing a kiss on Aziraphale's head as he forced himself to stay calm.

"I don't understand." Aziraphale choked out, pulling back so he could look up at Crowley. "I love Him. I always have. What have I done?" Crowley reached out to hold him again but the angel stepped out of his reach. "I need to talk to the Metatron." He said, quickly sliding past Crowley and into the front of the bookshop.

He didn't speak as he walked around the shop, gathering up his candles and taking them over the where his chalk circle sat under the carpet. He peeled the fabric back, his hands shaking as he arranged the candles and lit them. He went to stand in the center of the circle, his skin almost feeling as if it were burning. He said the words, feeling more and more hopeless the longer he went without the light coming forth. "Metatron!" He called out, wringing his hands nervously as he stared up at the ceiling. Crowley's heart ached as he watched the scene in front of him.

"Aziraphale..." He said, taking a few slow steps to where the angel was desperately calling out to heaven. "Angel, I don't think they're listening..."

Aziraphale's puffy eyes turned to Crowley, more tears escaping as his chest felt heavy with the pain of abandonment. "I... They've left me." He choked out, crumbling to the floor, not caring that he was knocking over candles near very flammable books. Crowley waved the flames out as he crouched on the floor next to the broken angel.

"I'm sorry." Crowley said again, a few tears escaping his own eyes as he kissed Aziraphale's cheeks. "This is my fault..."

"Don't say that." Aziraphale told him, clinging to his demon as though his very life depended on it. For all Crowley knew, it really just might.

* * *

"Can I get you anything?" Crowley asked, gently gliding his fingers through the blonde curls atop Aziraphale's head. His hair had lightened in color, the blonde becoming almost white. Crowley didn't say anything about it, knowing the ang-Aziraphale would find out about it soon enough.

"Tea please, dear." Aziraphale answered, staring at nothing in particular as he laid curled on his side. He felt the bed shift behind him as Crowley moved to crawl out of it. The demon placed a quick kiss on the top of his head before he left the room, going to the small kitchen at the back of the shop to make Aziraphale his tea.

Aziraphale's eyes traveled to the small dresser across his bedroom. Something rested inside the top drawer that he once had no need to fear. Now however, it was one of the most deadly things he could ever encounter.

He found himself moving out of the bed, walking over to the dresser and pulling the top drawer open. There in front of him sat a decent sized vile of holy water. He had it there as a precaution. He never knew when unwanted visitors would show up at the shop. Demons may not come to Earth very often, but when they did, they weren't usually the best company. Crowley being the exception, of course.

Aziraphale picked up the vile, feeling the same power through the glass that had always been there. This time however, his body's natural reaction seemed to be to fear the vile rather than appreciate it. He took a deep breath as he gripped the vile in his hand, turning and making his way out of the bedroom.

"I put an extra sugar in your tea." Crowley said, stepping into the bedroom. He paused once he was inside, seeing that Aziraphale was not where he had left him. "Aziraphale?" He called out, placing the tea cup on top of the dresser and turning back out into the hallway. He noticed the bathroom door was closed and stopped to knock on it. "Angel?" He asked.

"I'm not an angel anymore." Aziraphale answered, his voice muffled through the wooden door. Crowley felt a pang of sadness in his chest at Aziraphale's words.

"What are you doing in there?" He asked, reaching to turn the knob of the door. He was surprised to find it locked. He felt a sinking in his chest as he wondered why on Earth Aziraphale would be locking him out.

"Just thinking, dear boy." Was Aziraphale's reply. Crowley felt uneasy. Something wasn't right.

"Aziraphale, let me in." Crowley commanded, attempting to miracle the lock open. It was immediately locked back, Aziraphale using his own magic against his.

"Just stay out there, Crowley." Aziraphale told him, his voice shaking. "Please."

"Aziraphale." Crowley said more firmly, feeling his own anxiety start to rise in his chest. "Angel, what are you doing?"

"I don't know how to do this." Aziraphale said, ignoring Crowley's question. He was staring at himself in the mirror, watching as the last bit of his pearly white wings were taken over by grey. It was terrifying to see himself that way.

"Come out here and we'll talk about it." Crowley said desperately.

"6000 years, Crowley." Aziraphale said, ignoring him. "And that's just on Earth. What am I if not an angel? What am I meant for if not to serve Him?"

"You're _my_ angel, Aziraphale." Crowley reasoned, shoving at the door. "Please, open the door."

"But I'm not _His_ angel anymore." Aziraphale answered, sighing as a few tears escaped his eyes. He couldn't remember the last time he had cried this much.

"What do you have in there with you?" Crowley asked, closing his eyes as he had a pretty good idea.

"Holy water." Aziraphale answered honestly. Crowley let out a whimper as he rested his head on the door.

"Aziraphale, pour it down the sink." Crowley pleaded. Aziraphale just shook his head before it dawned on him that Crowley couldn't see it.

"I don't think so, dear..."

"Aziraphale!" Crowley shouted, anger mixing with his fear. "Open the blessed door or I swear I'll discorporate you myself!"

"Crowley.."

"No!" Crowley interrupted. "Don't you dare leave me here alone, angel!" He slammed a fist into the door, feeling his wings spread out behind him as his adrenaline started to rise. "I know that you're hurt. You were nothing but obedient to Him and He turned his back on you." He knew that his words would sting Aziraphale but he pressed on. "You did nothing wrong, angel. He's just a prick!"

There was silence for several moments and Crowley held his breath as he listened. The sound of the lock clicking was as loud as a gunshot, and Crowley instantly turned the knob and shoved his way into the bathroom.

He grabbed the vile of holy water before he did anything else, not caring if it scorched his fingers as he pulled the stopper free and poured the contents down the sink. Aziraphale was crumbled in the floor once again, his body shaking as sobs wracked his body. Crowley was at his side as soon as the vile was empty, wrapping his black wings around his lover and holding him as close as physically possible.

"Please never do that again." Crowley said, relief flooding him now that the door was no longer between them.

"I don't know what to do." Aziraphale murmured, his voice muffled as his face was pressed against Crowley's chest.

"I'll help you." Crowley assured him, rocking him soothingly where they knelt. "I'm not going anywhere."

Aziraphale just nodded as he clung to Crowley's shirt.

"Come on." Crowley said, standing and tugging the new demon up along with him. "Your teas getting cold."

* * *

/Well... this was my first time ever writing a Good Omens fic. I'm worried they were a bit out of character, but I did the best I could. It would be rad if ya'll left some reviews. Feedback is always welcome. 3


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